Short Stories

‘So, you can’t find the knife?’

Andy tries to make eye contact, but Barney is having none of it. He’s sitting on his hands, on top of his bed, staring at a green rug in the middle of the room. He’s dressed in jeans and a white Banksy Panda T-shirt. Andy last visited him here about six months ago. Back then he was talking about suicide and eventually told Andy that he’d taken a paracetamol overdose. Andy referred him to the on-call mental health team who admitted him to hospital. However, it turned out that Barney had lied, for reasons he never disclosed. He hadn’t taken anything. After spending a few days in hospital, he was sent back here, a hostel he shares with three others, under the care of the Community Mental Health Team.

June had initially passed on the police phone call to a duty doctor at the call centre who’d dealt with the request for a home visit for Barney. She’d written up the patient notes that Andy had read on the Toughbook. They explained that one of Barney’s housemates had called the police, because Barney was threatening to cut himself, or someone else. When the police discovered that Barney had no knife, they phoned the mental health crisis team who told them to phone the on-call doctor. The police agreed that Barney needed help, but with no knife he was no threat. They cleared off forty minutes ago, leaving some reassuring advice, which June passed on when Andy was sipping his latte. ‘If the knife turns up you can always phone 999.’

‘Great. I’ll make a note of the number.’

‘No need to be like that. Just trying to help.’

Barney bends down to look under a small pile of X–Men comics at his feet.

‘I put it somewhere,’ he says.

‘Is it sharp?’

Barney flicks through the comics. ‘You could say.’

Andy shifts in his seat. Barney isn’t always like this. Andy remembers seeing him up at the Care Centre with a cough and a sore throat. No mental health problems that evening. But that was over a year ago. This year his depression seems to have taken over his life. He’s evasive and uncommunicative, even with those who are trying to help him.

Barney finds nothing more than a dead spider and a packet of Rizlas and drops the comics back on the floor. He sits back on his bed and tidies his long blonde hair behind his ears. Andy sits opposite him on an old wooden dining chair, his tension easing now that Barney remains unarmed, troubled only by the smell of Barney’s feet.

Andy leans forward to try eye contact again. ‘If you find it, what will you do?’

Barney squints sideways, studies the wall to his right. ‘Trick question, eh?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well – you know what a knife’s for. Why ask me?’

Barney turns, makes eye contact for a couple of seconds, raises his eyebrows then stares at his feet.

‘It’s for lots of things. Like – er – for cutting string,’ Andy says.

Barney lifts his head and looks over Andy’s shoulder. Andy follows his gaze. A ball of string rests on top of a bookcase. There’s one book on the top shelf, the graphic novel From Hell. Jack the Ripper’s on the front cover waving a long knife around.

Barney nods. ‘Lots of uses for string too. D’you know what I do with string?’

Feeling uneasy again, Andy looks around the room for anything tied up with string.

Barney grins. ‘You’ll never guess.’

‘I suppose I won’t.’

‘My cat plays with it.’ Barney waves his right hand from side to side then up and down, thumb and index finger pinched together, jerking an invisible ball of string for an invisible cat. ‘But she ran away.’

‘I’m sorry about that.’

Perhaps the invisible cat is an imaginary friend. Andy can’t remember seeing it the last time he was here.

Barney twists strands of his hair between his fingers, avoiding eye contact again. At the foot of his bed is a cupboard covered by a blue sweater. To Andy’s right is a small table. The door is behind him. If Barney finds the knife, Andy’s between him and the door. Using the table as a shield, he’ll get out alive.

‘Why did she run away?’

Barney looks anxious, sits up and starts massaging his creased forehead. ‘She was frightened of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘But what frightened her?’

Eye contact again. Andy senses a small achievement. But it only lasts seconds. Barney flops back on his bed, resting on his elbows, gazing at the ceiling.

‘That cobweb’s been there for a week, but I haven’t seen the spider,’ Barney says. He must have forgotten the spider that’s dead and buried under his comics. ‘Troy’s dog chased her away.’

‘Who’s Troy?’

‘He let you in. He’s got two dogs. Cruella and Bella. It shouldn’t be allowed.’

‘Why not?’

‘They get into the kitchen. I’ve told Nita and Steve, but they take no notice.  Cruella got in here and chased Moggy away.’

‘Moggy might come back.’

‘No. She won’t.”

‘Perhaps you could get another cat?’

‘But Nita and Steve don’t believe me.’
‘Who are Nita and Steve?’
‘They look after us.’

‘I understand. When I was little, we had a cat that was run over. My Dad didn’t understand how upset I was. I could talk to Nita and Steve – if you want.’

‘Oh God, oh God,’ mumbles Barney, tapping on his chin with his right fist. ‘Has Moggy been run over?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Andy says. ‘That was a stupid thing for me to say. I’m sure Moggy hasn’t been run over.’ Another stupid thing to say. You’re not thinking straight, too tired.

‘My teacher used to tell me off for saying stupid things.’ Barney drops his hands and starts rubbing his thighs. ‘And sometimes other kids teased me.’

He looks at Andy again, still rubbing his thighs like he has sweaty palms. He clenches his fists and holds them in front of his eyes like a boxer guarding his face.

‘I’m sorry Barney. I didn’t mean to drag up these painful memories for you.’

‘They called me barmy Barney at school. Even the teachers. I overheard them talking once.’

There’s a knock at the door. Barney doesn’t say anything, but the door opens anyway.

A middle-aged man with a paunch and a dog under his right arm steps into the room. Andy stands, putting himself between Barney and the newcomer.

‘Hello, can I help?’ Andy says. This is the guy who let Andy into the hostel and showed him to Barney’s room. He didn’t have a dog with him at the time. ‘You must be Troy.’

‘That’s right – sorry I didn’t introduce meself before. I just want Barney to know I’m here for him.’

‘Thanks Troy,’ Barney says, surprisingly cheerful as this is the man with the dog that chased Moggy away. ‘Where’s Len?’

‘He’s gone out for a smoke. Do you want to see Bella?’

‘Sure, why not?’

Troy turns around. ‘Bella. Come here girl.’

There’s a clatter on the wooden floor in the hallway. Bella is a muddy brown bitch, still a pup, maybe some kind of terrier. She bounces into the room, halts at Andy’s feet, pants and dribbles, looks up at Andy, turns towards Barney and, with one jump between Andy’s legs, lands at Barney’s feet. He puts her on his knee and scratches her belly.

‘You enjoying that?’ Barney smiles. Bella begins to squirm with pleasure.

Andy says, ‘But wasn’t your cat scared away by Troy’s dog?’

Barney ignores him and continues to scratch.

Troy explains. ‘That was Cruella.’

‘Oh, I see. Where’s Cruella?’ Andy says.

‘I’m holding Cruella. She’s Bella’s mam.’

Head first, and with both his hands under her belly, Troy offers Cruella to Andy as if he were passing a rugby ball. This elicits a lets-try-a-lick reflex, but Cruella’s tongue finds thin air as Andy steps back.

Barney looks up. ‘Cruella’s a bad dog. Keep her out.’

‘Yes, Troy,’ Andy says. ‘Best keep her away from Barney right now.’

‘I’m sorry man. She won’t get in here again.’ Troy pulls her to his chest.

‘Or in the kitchen,’ Barney says.

Troy shakes his head. ‘Never.’

The knife seems to be forgotten for now.

Andy asks, ‘So, when do Nita and Steve get here?’

‘Sevenish,’ Troy says.

In twenty minutes – according to Barney’s bedside clock. When Andy will hand everything over to Community Mental Health and either Nita or Steve will phone Barney’s psychiatrist to arrange a review.

‘I’m making tea,’ Troy says. ‘You want some, doc?’

‘Great. White, two sugars.’

‘Coming up.’

Troy walks away, Cruella still tucked under his arm, straight into the kitchen. Barney doesn’t notice.

Barney stops scratching Bella and begins to talk about his childhood. Andy’s heard some of it before, but he doesn’t stop Barney telling him about his parent’s mental health problems and his time in a foster home from age ten.

‘It wasn’t their fault. They were real mental. Did drugs. And booze. Dad cleared off. They should never have had kids. Mum’s dead.’

‘I’m sorry, Barney.’

‘I’m not.’

He tells Andy he’s been cutting himself since he was fifteen. On his eighteenth birthday, he had a reaction to ‘some shit’ he took at a party and ended up in hospital. The nurses discovered his scars.

‘Since then, it’s been shrink after shrink. Different pills after different pills. I was always foggy. I couldn’t finish college.’ He smacks the top of his head with the flat of his hand.

‘Fucking pills. I can’t wake up. Keep forgetting things. Like a fraud in my own head.’

‘Have you stopped taking them?’

‘Since last week.’

He balls his fists again, clenches his jaw. Bella looks at Andy.

‘The doctors only want to help you, Barney.’

Barney’s fists are resting on his forehead again. He starts to rock, just tiny movements. Bella wobbles but stays put.

‘Look there’s a charity I know.’ Andy tries to sound upbeat while he shifts his weight and lifts his heels ready to dodge a fist. Or that hidden knife. ‘They send someone to support you when you see the psychiatrist. And check out all the side effects before you take the pills. They can ask the psychiatrist questions you might forget to ask.’

Andy picks up a comic, finds a pen in his jacket, and writes down a phone number, just above Wolverine’s head. ‘Tell them Dr Truelove told you to call. They’re friends of mine.’

Silence for half a minute. Barney’s fists uncurl. He takes the comic, stares at it, and slides it under his pillow.

‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘Thanks’.

Troy reappears. ‘Here we are.’

No Cruella. Instead, he’s carrying two mugs: a black and white Derby County supporter’s mug and one bearing an NHS logo. Barney places Bella at his feet, where she licks his toes. He takes the Derby mug, leaving Andy to take the NHS mug.

‘You a Rams fan, Barney?’ Andy asks.

‘No, that’s Mo. She’s upstairs in bed.’

Troy fetches his own drink from the kitchen, leans against the doorframe, blowing the steam away. ‘I was really worried about you man. I had to call someone.’ He takes a sip, wipes his lips with the back of his free hand and manages half a smile.

Barney sucks at his tea, making a loud gurgling noise that startles Bella. Her ears prick up, but after a couple of seconds she’s back licking Barney’s toes.

Andy feels exhausted. On call since midnight, and it’s been busy. For now, all he can do is drink tea until Nita and Steve arrive and he can do a handover. He’ll tell them Barney seems to have worked himself up to thoughts of self-harm after stopping his medication. Andy became a sounding board. Either the knife is lost, or it never existed. Perhaps Barney has an imaginary knife and an imaginary cat. Andy’s pleased that he gained enough trust for Barney to open up a little. Perhaps he invented the knife to get someone to listen to him.

A loud creak from the front door. A cheerful male voice, crusty with smoke, shouts, ‘I’m back.’

‘That’s Len,’ Barney says.

Len appears at the door and stands next to Troy.

‘Man, you stink,’ Troy says.

‘Nice to see you too, Troy old man.’ His accent is public school, grey beard, grey hair, a fading tan, with some a weird swirly tattoo on his neck. No guessing his age. Andy catches the smell of sweat, tobacco and last night’s alcohol when Len steps into the room to offer his hand for Andy to shake.

‘Hello sir, I’m Len. Pleased to meet you, sir.’

‘Bloody hell Len! First, I hears you, then I smells you.’ A loud female voice from somewhere down the hallway. A small middle-aged woman with thinning brown hair appears between Len and Troy. Barney doesn’t seem to be bothered about the growing crowd.

She sniffs loudly for effect, puckers her nose, frowns at Len. ‘You been drinking that piss again, haven’t you?’

She walks into the room, side-steps Andy, and sits next to Barney on his bed. She’s wearing a green dressing gown that’s too big for her, pulls it over her legs and ties another knot in the belt.

She points at Andy. ‘Who’s he?’

Her fingernails are painted a sparkly gold.

‘I’m Doctor Truelove. I’ve come to see Barney.’

‘Barney don’t need a doctor.’

Barney laughs. ‘Morning Mo. You, OK?’

‘I’m good Barn. What’s up with you?’

‘Been feeling a bit low, Mo.’

‘You using my mug again?’

‘Sorry. It was Troy made the drinks.’

‘It’s OK. I still got your knife and scissors. I can show you what I made.’

Andy blames tiredness for the seconds it takes the chatter to sink in. ‘You’ve got Barney’s knife?’

‘Yeah. So?’ She shrugs. ‘He leant me his penknife and scissors. I been making Christmas cards. I sell them at the hospital fair.’

A guilty grin creases Barney’s face. He looks at Mo, then Andy. ‘I forgot. Sorry.’

Andy takes a deep breath. ‘No problem.’ He places his mug on the floor and leans forward. ‘Do you mind if I give Nita and Steve your knife and scissors. For safekeeping.’

Barney is quick to reply. ‘Yeah. Yeah. For sure.’

Andy turns to Mo. ‘Can you show me where they are?’

‘Yeah. I’ve finished with ‘em.’

Mo takes Andy to her room upstairs, where she shows him her Christmas cards. She’s decorated plain card with scenes cut out from old cards. Lots of Robins. Andy gives her two quid for a card depicting a robin standing next to the three wise men. There’s a moment of anxiety when she can’t find the penknife, but it turns up next to the scissors, under a pile of cuttings.

Andy follows Mo downstairs to be greeted by Steve and Nita at the bottom of the stairs. He hands over the knife and scissors to Nita and gives her his account of the drama of the previous night. Steve pops into Barney’s room to listen to his side of the story. Nita explains that she had no idea that Mo’s knife and scissors belonged to Barney.

Andy says, ‘I’m just happy that the mystery’s been solved.’ He turns to Troy who’s holding Cruella again. ‘You did the right thing to call. And thanks for the tea.’

Troy smiles. ‘Nice to meet you, doc.’

Back in the Land Cruiser, Andy types up his consultation notes on the Toughbook before Charlie phones June to give her an update.

‘So – what’s happening?’ June says.

‘About finished here,’ Andy says. ‘Not many dead.’

‘Whaaat? Have you called the police?’

‘Naa. Buried them in the back yard.’

She sighs. ‘Stop messing me about. I should punish you with more work, but I’ll let you get off home.’

As soon as Charlie turns the ignition, a Bengal cat that must have been hiding under the Land Cruiser shoots onto the pavement and dives under the nearest broken fence.

The End